


Perfect Imperfection

by bethgreenewarriorprincess



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bethyl Smut Week August 2016, Daryl Dixon on him and Beth having sex even though that's not what he's calling it, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, lots of emphasis on kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 11:18:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7889521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethgreenewarriorprincess/pseuds/bethgreenewarriorprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl decides he likes kissing as much as Beth does but maybe they are ready for something more.  He isn't sure but he's ready to try even if all this restraint between them breaks and they drown in all their desire for one another; she's the anchor for him to this world and together they've etched out a perfect corner of it just for the two of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect Imperfection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SwiftSnowmane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwiftSnowmane/gifts).



> Inspired in part by the Bethyl Smut Week August 2016 prompt "i like my body when it is with your body" by e.e. cummings and in part by "All of Me" by John Legend. For the purpose of this story, it is set post fall of the prison, post 4B and a sort of loosely floating universe where it's just the two of them on the run.

i like my body when it is with your  
body. It is so quite new a thing.  
Muscles better and nerves more.  
i like your body.  i like what it does,  
i like its hows.  i like to feel the spine  
of your body and its bones,and the trembling  
-firm-smooth ness and which i will  
again and again and again  
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,  
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz  
of your electric furr, and what-is-it comes  
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,  
and possibly i like the thrill  
of under me you so quite new

e. cummings

 

 

Kissing.  It’s one thing Daryl has come to realize that Beth loves.  He hasn’t always been this good at it; he gives full credit to Beth on that one.  The first shy press of his lips to hers was met with her sure kiss back, her tongue delicately probing his lips for more of his taste, more of their lips meshing together.  She is good at it; _really good_.

As her lips melt into his now, each slide of their tongues together a now well-practiced dance; each sigh into his mouth that he swallows with a groan of his own is a song that they’ve perfected together. It’s their song and that’s music enough to him.  But it’s as he’s kissing her and thinking he never wants to stop, that he realizes it’s something he has come to love too.  Kissing, that is. 

He never thought he’d be the kind of guy that liked smooching and all that jazz but he finds now that he and Beth are together, he can’t get enough of her sweet kisses; the ones that are soft and hazy and they are locked for seemingly hours on barely feather brushes of their lips together amidst whispered assurances that they are together, it shouldn’t be possible that they can have this, but here they are. 

He can’t get enough of the in-between ones where they have to break away because someone is coming or it just gets too much to handle sometimes.  But especially he thinks it’s this dance they’ve perfected that they keep edging towards something.  These are the kisses that are nearly a paradox.  Because while it’s too much sometimes, it’s those that are the ones that turn hot and needy on a dime and are the most intoxicating and this is one of those times. 

He feels drunk now.  Drunk on her.  He can’t get enough of kissing her and he finds that lately he wants to kiss more of her. 

More of her mewling into his mouth. More of her tangling her fingers into the too long hair that she swears she’s gonna take scissors to any day.  But the truth is, he doesn’t know what she would hold onto when they get going like this.  When their kisses have become so heated that the air between them shifts and changes and their chests are heaving for breath and they have to pull away.

But they don’t stop kissing. Not this time.  And he wonders somewhere in the back of his mind if they’ve finally reached that edge and it’s too late to pull back. 

For she presses her lips to his shoulder through his shirt even as his fasten over the smooth column of flesh on her neck just below her ear.  His tongue darts out to taste her as he breathes her in.  Sweat and sweet and God, he could kiss every inch of her and never tire of her taste. 

So maybe that is why it feels almost instinctual as her fingers work the buttons loose on his shirt and it slips onto the sofa behind him.  As if this is where this is supposed to go; where it was going all along.  Maybe ever since that first night at the shack when she’d declared she wanted to change and oh, she had.  She really had. 

It’s just the two of them.  Has been ever since the prison and they’ve been on the run.  This rarely happens; a relatively calm night without walkers.  Without people.  But here they are and here she is, undressing him.  And then her fingers come up to the hem of her own shirt and time sort of fractures as her slim shoulders slip into view, then her collarbone as she works her shirt free of her own body.  Each new expanse of skin is like a shutter opening in his mind; every new pale swath of flesh bared to his gaze is like light cracking open the darkness. 

He thinks he barely breathes as her tits come into full view, pink rosebud nipples hardened in the cool night air.  So pretty.  His face flushes anew and he thinks this is definitely them stepping over that edge.  He thinks at first, as they are standing there, face to face, that it might have been a shy toeing of their feet over that line but once they’d crossed it, there was no turning back.  The pull is too great and perhaps that’s why she comes so easily into his arms, as if she’s made to fit there, and why his hands know exactly what to do.

As if he’d always held her like this, one palm splayed low over her bare back, the other coming up to cup her breast, kneading, feeling, exploring her in parts, in whole, in every single space of the moment it comes down to his skin against hers. 

And he has never liked his body.  In fact, he’s always found some part of himself to hate.  His too long nose, his wide chin, the scars on his back; they all serve to remind him of the imperfect Dixon bloodline.  He has never liked looking at himself but seeing his hand, so dark and ruddy against her small pale breast does something to him. 

Something inside his chest grows and expands and he feels almost proud.  Her skin under him, so new; it should scare him.  It should repulse him that he has this all-consuming need to touch her and instead it fascinates him.  He is enthralled as her skin flushes all around that little freckle in the center of her chest.  He focuses on that a moment and thinks how much he’d like to press his lips to her there, there over that freckle where it’s the only “flaw” on her entire body and how even that makes him want to cry with how very perfect she is. 

He likes her body under his touch and he thinks it’s a transference, maybe even a transcendence that he likes his own skin better as it’s put upon hers, his hand still kneading her breast and taking in the way her eyelids are drawn further and further down as the crease of his palm presses into that tightened bud and she gasps a little as his fingers press into her hip from behind dragging her against him. 

He’s hard.  Hard and nearly pulsing in heat, but he ignores it for now as he brings his lips to hers and the kissing starts all over again. 

First soft and then slowly licking into one another, like flame to tinder their lips spark together, their breath getting warmer and Beth moaning low as he withdraws his hand from her breast long enough to encircle her nipple with the callused edge of his thumb.  She leans into his touch and gasps into his mouth as he squeezes the tiny bud with his thumb and forefinger and the result has her rocking her hips into his hard and firm. 

Then it’s his turn to gasp as they are pressed hip to hip.  It’s as if he can feel her heat, _there_ , down to his bones.  As if they are stitched of the same sinew; every nerve ending lit afire, tethered with each new touch between them. Before long, she is pulling at his pants and his brain has a hard blink moment where he’s trying to process things, because up until now in his mind he sort of was telling himself that this was just something between them.  Something burning that they needed to explore.  But it wasn’t sex. 

Not until now.  Not until she is pulling at his pants button and working it through the grommet. 

Not until the sound of his zipper rents the air around them. 

Not until she presses her mouth to him, lips and teeth scraping across the skin of his neck and he gasps even as he thrusts himself into her hand, rendering her motions completely ineffective for a moment.  But it’s just that pull to her, skin to skin, bone to bone; it’s powerful.  It’s bigger than him and not for the first time, he wonders if this girl will bring him to his knees, but maybe this time in a more wondrous and satisfying way. 

He could be happy there at her feet he decides.  He could be happy looking at her in awe like this for the rest of his life, for the span of this moment, for whatever the man upstairs would let them have.  And if it was only this night, then that was okay too.

“Daryl.”  Her breathy moan slips from her lips right by his ear.  “I want you.”  It’s more than he has ever expected to hear from her.  And this time, he’s sure.  It’s definitely sex.  He can’t tiptoe around what this is any longer.  This thing between them has finally come to this point but again, he thought maybe it always was.

Because in that moment, as she’s worked his jeans from his hips and has wrest his hard length free of his underwear and takes him in her hand, he is sure he is right.  He is going to fall to his knees under her touch and he thinks it fitting that she should be the one to bring down the tough as nails Daryl Dixon. 

She once told him he was gonna be the last man standing. 

Oh, he thinks she is so wrong about that. 

But it’s okay.  Again he’s okay with being brought to his knees.  Because this is Beth and it’s okay to be this way with her.  It’s okay to be as needy as he is right now and that’s how he feels as her hand works over him, her tiny fist pumping over his cock and he blinks slow once, twice, watching how she is intent on what she is doing and she catches him then, looking at her as his hand grips her hip on one side and the other comes up to the waistband of her jeans, fingers nosing beneath the hem, feeling all that smooth cool skin of her belly.  He wants to press his mouth there too, he realizes. 

It’s as he is processing all this that he realizes that they are sitting here on the sofa in this cabin when there’s a perfectly good bed in the next room and he wonders for a moment if they should  go to the bedroom.  It’s as his fingers still on her pants that he takes in her gaze, assessing where she is at in the moment and it’s as if she’s read his mind. 

“Let’s go to bed.”  That one sentence nearly renders him mute.  For she’s said it in such an offhand way.  Just like all the other times.  But this time, it’s different.  This time, it means so much more. 

He can only nod as she slips her fingers into his and he thinks again how perfectly her bones knit with his and he wonders if it will be that way in the next room.  Once they are well and truly bared to one another, will they fit together this perfectly?  He likes to think they will and as he stands to follow her into the bedroom, he has a slightly off kilter moment.  It could be the reality setting in, he thinks.  Or it could be the sudden realization as they reach the threshold of the tiny room, that he is about to go to bed with Beth Greene in every sense and he isn’t sure what he did to deserve this girl, but he is damn grateful.

In the old world, where Dixons were nobody and nothing, he knew he’d never attempt to do this.  He’d never be following a pretty, young (and nearly naked) blonde into the back room of a dark cabin, but that world ended a long time ago.  It’s a new world now they are living in, him and Beth.  And things have changed. 

 _They_ have changed.  As they arrive at the side of the bed and face one another, time seems to fracture in on itself again as she looked at him, her eyes wide, blue and slightly dazed and her lashes flutter, her gaze directed down for a moment.  For all her confidence in the other room, for all her confidence in her kisses, she is unsure about this and for a minute he doesn’t know if he can do it.   But then she is looking at him and taking him in, in that very Beth Greene way.  The way that says she knows all his tells.

“I want you, Daryl.”  She repeats this again because she knows he needs to hear it.  She always knows what to say, this girl of spark and fire and sunshine.  She is so unbelievably tender in her gaze, in bringing her fingers up to caress the side of his grizzled cheek.   

The words are out of his mouth before he has time to think about it because never has anything been more true.  “I want you too.”  

She sighs as their lips come together and he finishes what he started in the other room, his fingers clumsily coming up to fumble at the button on her jeans.   She lets him as if she knows this is an important step; an assurance of his choice in this.  That he wants this just as badly as she does.  And he does.

He is achingly hard as Beth works his pants free of his hips and he steps away from them while she does the same.  She is then just standing there in a pair of thin pink panties and he can’t quite process it, the way they hug her hips perfectly, the way he can make out the dark curls underneath and most of all the wet spot right in the center that lets him know that _yes_ , she does want him.

He reaches out to her hips and pulls her against him and she looks up at him, a heady mix of lust and devotion.  He takes in her blown pupils as he cups her through the fabric and he groans as his thumb swipes over that wet spot. 

“Christ girl.”  He breathes as he reaches down with his free hand and pulls on his sac, feeling like he’s about to come right here and now. 

“God, Daryl.”  She breathes. 

He shifts them so he can lie her back on the bed and she obliges, her hips just resting on the edge of the mattress, those pink panties the only thing between them now.  He thumbs his fingers under the hem and pulls them downward as she lifts her hips and assists him in moving them down her hips and off her body.  

He wishes there are words for how he feels when she is bared to him.  Those tight dark curls, all damp and he thinks he might die as she lets her legs fall out to the side revealing to him all that soaked paradise between her thighs.  Pink, wet flesh and he thinks he has never seen anything prettier than Beth’s pussy. 

He climbs onto the bed as she makes room beside him and reaches out one finger, combing through her curls; so soft, so wet and then he’s there, his finger sliding through all that wet heat and he groans thinking again about how they will fit together. 

She turns in his arms and reaches for his cock as he presses his lips to her hair, to her cheek.  “Beth.  Beth.  Beth.”  He can’t stop saying her name and he realizes he is almost chanting it in time to the thrusts of her tiny hand over his cock, each stroke sending him into orbit. 

He reaches down to still her hand a moment.  “Wait.”  The word comes out harsh, rasping with desire.  He is going to blow before he ever gets inside her at this rate. 

She laughs softly and he is enchanted by it.  That she finds amusement in this and he looks down at her meaning to scowl, but then he sees her face lit up in a smile and he laughs too.  Because it’s her and it’s him and so far they’ve been creeping slowly towards this and there’s no need for this urgency.  They got all the time they need, right?  Except they kind of don’t.  Time hasn’t ever been on their side and maybe it isn’t more than ever now that they’ve stepped over that edge into this bliss.    

“I like making you feel good.”  She whispers with a tiny shy smile and a shrug and he can’t help but smile back because well when Beth Greene smiles, you smile back dammit. 

“Oh.”  He says.  Because he pretty much feels dumbstruck at all of it.  At her.  At them together. 

Then they are kissing again, that ritualistic dance, teeth nipping at lips, and tongues sliding and her hands come up to either side of his face a moment as she lies on her back and he shifts to accommodate her while she spreads her legs and lifts her hips, hooking one leg behind his hip as he reaches between them. 

This is where he falters.  This is where he starts to tremble because he knows that while both of them  have done this before (they’ve talked about it a few times, his handful of encounters and her few times with Zach at the prison).  He thinks it’s a bit strange now that he is thinking of her former beau as he’s about to put his own cock inside her.

He wonders at that a minute.  How he’d come to her cell that night, a failed protector and now here they were about to take this next step and he is scared out of his mind. 

She sees straight through his hesitance.  As usual.  Because it’s Beth and she knows these things about him.  She sees and she reaches between them, closing her fingers around his where he’s gripping his cock just outside her entrance and between the two of them, he pushes inside her while they both watch as his length disappears inside her.  Her head drops back in a pleasured groan and he has to force his eyes shut to keep from coming because it feels better than he’d ever imagined, being sheathed inside her like this.

He takes a minute, pulls his hips back a bit, sliding back through her heat and then back in again and she spreads her legs wider, seating him fully inside her.  Fuck.  She’s tight and warm and wet and he thinks he might drown in want to keep from pounding away at her. 

But he can’t.  They’ve come this far with a certain amount of restraint.  He can make it through this too. He presses his forehead to hers and breathes her name.  “Beth.  Baby.” It comes out almost slow and slurred and he can’t comprehend how good she feels. 

“Oh God, Daryl.  _Fuck me_.”  The last part is unexpected.  It’s unreal. It’s everything and all the sudden that tight hold they had on everything breaks.  The taut cable of restraint and denial stretches and snaps in two and then he drives himself back inside her on a vigorous thrust and she cries out, bucking her hips up into his.

“God, yes, like that.”  She breathes out on another long gasp as he thrusts back inside her.

He can’t quite believe it.  He’s fucking Beth Greene and she is writhing beneath him.  He _is_ fucking her.  There is no other way to describe it, as he slides one hand behind her back and the other he presses to her ankle, pulling slightly, spreading her wider so he fuck her in longer, surer strokes. 

It’s one continuous circuit of pleasure, his cock thrusting in and out of her tight heat over and over again and he remembers that there should be something for her in this.   

He wants to make her feel good too. He reaches between them again where she’s pressed against him and he finds that hard nub at the top of her sex, combs through the curls, thumbs back the hood and presses in as he pumps his length inside her. 

Before long her chest is heaving and that tiny freckle he’d been wanting to kiss, he leans down and closes his mouth over it, tongue laving at it, stroking and sucking.  Her hands come up to grip his hair and he thinks he won’t ever let her cut it if this is what it’s meant for. 

Maybe it’s an anchor to hold her to him because that’s what he needs before he flies apart and up into the night.  Maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be, he thinks, as his tongue continues its path along to her nipple and he sucks that tight bud into his mouth, suckling hard.

“I’m gonna,-. Oh god, Daryl!” 

She moans high and long and hard, deep in her throat, her groans vibrating against the top of his head.  Then she’s gasping his name over and over again as his finger and his cock work her through her release, as it pours out of her. 

He pulls his lips from her breast in those final seconds to watch the rapture on her face as her head is thrown back, blond hair a messy tousle, cheeks flushed, lips plump from his kisses and it’s then he knows.  He knows he’s right.  Here he is on his knees and he doesn’t care if he ever stands again. 

He brings his hands back up to her face, brushes her hair from her forehead as he pulses in and out of her slowly, letting her recover.  Her eyes are closed, but her lips are curved in a satisfied smile.  She looks spent and fucking beautiful and he loves her.  He loves her and that’s the best part, he thinks.  Besides the fact that he made her come.  He’s damn proud of that.

She shifts under him and he isn’t sure what she means to do at first until she is climbing from under him and nudging his hip gently so he’s now the one lying on his back and he thinks he likes this.   She climbs on top of him to straddle his hips and easily impales herself on his length, joining them together again as they groan anew at the changed position, the tighter angle.

Then everything goes into a blinding white as she begins to rock herself against him, her fingers coming up to brace herself on his chest and now he _knows_ he likes this.  He likes it a lot.  It isn’t how he imagined it her riding him like this, but he likes it.  He likes everything about the way he can let his eyes rove over her body as she fucks herself over him, tiny tits bouncing in her wake. 

[She is moaning and as he looks down their bodies where they are joined and she is split perfectly for him, he finally does fly apart.  He cries out as his body shakes and shudders out his release and he reaches up to hold her hips to him as he thrusts up into her, because if he’s about to take flight, she’s coming with him. ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3205010/chapters/7239092) 

A few more frenzied half thrusts and he’s spent and she folds herself down to meet him in a kiss.  And this time it’s one of the slow and hazy ones, but it’s even better because of what they just did and how their bodies are still joined together.  He thinks this might be his favorite type of kiss yet. 

She is so perfect.  And he is so not.  Maybe somehow together they can find the kind of love; a love so beautifully flawed that all you see is the wonder and beauty of the other person never knowing that they were the one all along who was making you whole when you didn’t even know you needed it.  That’s how he felt being with Beth.

And he knew he was right.  He could only find this with her.  Maybe what they had wasn’t perfect.  But maybe together they could find that perfect imperfection that was just them.  

For now, he doesn’t think about it any further.  For now, he is in the moment sharing sweet, slow after-sex kisses with his girl, because yes that’s what this really is.  But it’s more than that and he knows it. 

The world ended.  But for now, he’s just gonna kiss Beth Greene.  And that’s an okay night in his book. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know where this came from actually but I felt inspired to write first time Bethyl and so here we are (again!) What can I say I just love the idea of them coming together for the first time and being able to feel and experience everything they deserve.  Hope you liked this even half as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
>  
> 
> PS – The hyperlink in the text is because my dear friend Swiftsnowmane wrote a beautiful fic All that Remains and I was so inspired by it, this passage sort of flew right out (pun totally intended). 


End file.
